


Just Let Me.

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky had saved Steve's life two decades before. Now it's time for Steve to return the favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!This is not a real chapter. Just the preface!!!
> 
> The *real* chapters will be longer, with much more content and substance. Please bear with me.

Sound all around. Horrific sound. Sound. Sound!               Silence.               Only Silence.

  
  


The boy had looked so peaceful and calm in the waves. So peaceful. So. Calm. So _unnatural._

  


So fast. Started swimming so fast. Too fast. Too fast! Ran out of breath. Breathe, breathe, breathe, don’t stop now you’re almost there. Fast. Swimming fast. Pulling, dragging. Muscles burning, screaming, begging. NO. Not yet.

 

So far out. So far out. Close enough to hear the sounds. Too far out to reach. Reach. Reach. Closer. Closer. Louder and louder. So fast. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Fast. Pull. Drag. Louder and louder. Swimming fast. Final stretch. Push. Faster. Faster! Reach. Hear. Hearing. Screaming. Fast. Fast. Fast. Fast. So fast. Too fast. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

 

Breathe. It’s over. It’s over. Breathe. Retch. Bend. Retch. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written weirdly, and in Bucky's POV, and will be the only one this way. The rest will be in Steve's.


	2. Twisted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grown men don't cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first *real* chapter. Please enjoy.

 

Steve smelled Bucky before he saw him. The stench of whiskey and sweat overpowered his nose, the lavender candle on his desk doing nothing to mask it. He stumbled into Steve’s study, towering over the smaller, seated man in front of the computer. Steve looked up, and Bucky let out a string of incomprehensible words. Rubbing his temples and scrunching his face into a tight frown, he slowly rose from his chair. This was the sixth night this week. And it was Saturday. He had done this _every_ night this week.

 

Steve's small, soft hands gripped Bucky’s shaking shoulders as he led him to the bathroom. Situating the drunk, shaking mess in front of the toilet, he leaned back against the cold hard tub. He closed his eyes and rubbed his best friends back in a light circular motion. Bucky tensed up beneath him, and heaved, his nose -so- close to skimming the water inside of the toilet bowl. He gasped for air, then shuddered, as he heaved into the toilet again. The man let out another mumble of unclear words, and leaned into Steve’s warm, supportive hand on his back.

 

 _It’s not your fault. Not your fault._ He knew this, yet the deep harsh pain in his stomach wouldn’t go away. Done something. He could have done something. Pulled himself out of his work for one goddamn minute. Not let him leave the house. Gone to the bar with him. Just something, anything. It was done now. Now he needed to take care of Bucky. He forced himself out of his head, and focused back to the task at hand.

 

He shuddered under the weight of large man, as they walked, stumbling together, into Bucky’s bedroom. Steve shouldered on the light, and untangled Bucky from his arms, letting them both fall onto the bed. He pulled the alcohol stained shirt off first, delicate and quick. He untied the shoes and set them on the ground. Unzipped the jeans, took off the socks. He stripped the man down to only his boxers, and pulled the comforter around him. He grabbed the outfit, and all the other dirty clothes from the room. He blinked hard and turned around to look at the man, already asleep behind him, before flicking off the light and walking out of the room.

 

The pile of clothes in his hands reeked, soiled with sweat, whiskey, and piss. He had to swallow hard to keep from gagging. He threw them into the laundry room as he walked by, not even bothering to get them in a basket. He had to wash his hands. To splash cool water on his face. The bathroom still held the thick, hot stench of vomit, so he took himself into the kitchen instead. Hot water and soap covered his hands and he scrubbed, hard, not even noticing the pain of his fingernails digging into the soft palms. Then cold water, all over his face, droplets getting into his hair, down his neck.

 

He needed to get the feeling of sadness and anger out of his chest. He wanted to scream at Bucky, at God, at himself. He wanted to march back into Bucky’s bedroom and just punch him until his hands went numb. He wanted to rip his own hair out, to slam his head repeatedly against the wall. He couldn't do any of this. So he didn’t. So he wandered back into his study, and continued his report, as if the last hour hadn’t even happened.

 

 

 

* * *

  


  


He was refilling his cup of coffee when he heard the loud and heavy shuffle moving towards him. He glanced up from the pot, and looked up at Bucky. Bucky’s eyes were barely open, but red, and his face held a tired frown. Steve slightly shook his head, and handed Bucky the cup. He really didn’t need another anyway. Bucky’s mouth twitched, and flicked up for a second before falling back into the frown. They walked, one man's steps quiet, and the others heavy, together toward the kitchen table.

“I’m sorry” Bucky’s voice was soft, and his eyes moved lazily to look into Steve’s.

Steve just let out a heavy sigh, not saying anything. He grabbed the newspaper next to him and studied the front page.

“Stevie. I’m sorry.” The voice was louder, more urgent and insistent. Bucky reached across the table, and put his rough hand over Steve’s. Steve yanked his hand away, and got up from the table fast. He shook his head forcefully, and his eyes flashed in a wave of emotion. Anger. Sadness. Anger. Anger. He whirled around and walked away, leaving Bucky to stare at the now empty chair across from him.

 

Why did he do this. Why. Why did he hurt himself like this. Hurt Steve like this. Steve had to get out of this house. Get out before he ran to Bucky. Before he ran back to Bucky and cried, screamed, begged. He needed to get Bucky out of his brain. He needed to distract himself somehow.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white. He didn’t know where to go. He didn’t have anywhere to go. So he didn’t go anywhere. He just drove. And drove. He finally pulled himself into a stop on the side of the road. His eyes filled with tears, and he let out a deep, shoulder shaking sob. His face felt hot, and his ears burned. He leaned forward to put his head in his hands, and broke down. He didn’t know how long he sat doing this. It felt like forever. When he had no more in him, he just wiped his eyes with his hands, his nose with his shirt. Grown men didn’t cry. Grown men stood up and faced their anger, sadness. He sniffed one final time, put his car back into drive, and pushed the gas.

 

He needed to get Bucky help. A therapist. Alcoholics Anonymous. Anything. Help so that Steve didn’t deal with this himself anymore. Bucky wasn’t getting better. Bucky was just coming home the same every night. The same stench of alcohol. The same shudders and he threw up. So that Steve had to undress him and tuck him in like a child. And he couldn’t get better. He couldn’t get better. Not with Steve alone.

  
Steve remembered his boss telling him about how he used to be an alcoholic. Yes. Steve would enlist Tony to help. He would try to enlist Tony at least. Tony, who used to be an alcoholic. Tony, who ran the largest and most successful technology company in the world. Tony, the only one other than Pepper, that actually spoke to him at the office. Tony, the man who kept promoting Steve until he was only one rung below the ladder to himself. Tony could help. 

**Author's Note:**

> All comments appreciated! Critique or praise your heart out.


End file.
